


three horses the horseman never rode

by voksen



Category: HENRY Marguerite - Works, Highlander - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Drabble Sequence, Gen, Horses, Triple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 01:49:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voksen/pseuds/voksen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Misty of Chincoteague/Justin Morgan Had a Horse/King of the Wind/Highlander crossover for enviropony's Fandom Stocking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	three horses the horseman never rode

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enviropony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enviropony/gifts).



Methos woke up. It was unpleasantly bright and unpleasantly cold.

He spat out a mouthful of grit and salt, choked, spat again.  "Absolutely the last boat," he swore, as he did once every few centuries or so, and, pulling himself to his feet, looked around: flat gray sea, dirty sand, and a thin, shaggy-coated pinto mare watching him with keen dark eyes from the scrub just inland.

When he tried to catch her, she slipped his grasp like a phantom; he followed her until she led him to the island's far coast... and the town visible across the narrow channel.

 

* * *

 

Alec Benson, stableman extraordinaire, was overdue to meet his timely end; he was beginning to look _well-preserved._ Methos was fair ready for a warmer climate than Beaver Pond's, anyway.

One last bet, then, for some easy traveling money. The races were less a gamble for him than for most; horses had always been in his blood.

The best by far was a small dark bay, as fast and full of fire as the gray he had once ridden. Pushing back old memories, he cornered the farmer afterward: "I'll buy your horse, friend."

"'Tisn't mine to sell. That's Justin Morgan's horse."

 

* * *

 

The one good thing about dying inconveniently in public, he thought, was that occasionally there was so much chaos that no one noticed that you hadn't just been knocked down.

The fat man (previously attached to the runaway horse) settled with the overturned vegetable cart and various other obvious claims first. By the time he finally puffed his way over, Methos was up, brushing off his clothes and thanking his luck it had been a broken neck instead of a smashed head.

"I'll sell the damned beast, and _that_ for a Sultan's gift. M'sieur, are you hurt?"

Methos smiled. "No."


End file.
